Flirting Recklessly With the White Moonlight Will Get You Marked - Chapter 30
30:
The weather was overcast, shrouded in a heavy haze, everything blurred to the eyes. October was growing colder, the breeze carrying a chill.
Yan Qingqiu stood on the street, utterly bewildered.
The system repeated in her mind: [Congratulations, Host! You’re the fastest I’ve ever seen. No one’s progressed this quickly before!]
Yan Qingqiu asked, puzzled: [Why couldn’t the others push forward?]
The system explained: [Lots of reasons. It’s like playing a game yourself, miss a key piece of info, and clearing the stage gets tough. Plus, if your favorability with some NPCs is too low, you can’t pry out critical plot points, which impacts the story.]
To help her understand, it added: [If you hadn’t pulled off the ‘b1tch’ art exhibition or the ‘rolling 18 supermodels’ livestream, making Luo Xi fear you, you wouldn’t have triggered the bathroom encounter yesterday. You’d likely have clashed hard with her, getting no info at all.]
Yan Qingqiu let out an oh, grasping it. [I’ve got a question.]
The system ignored her question, circling back: [You hit 50% plot points so fast, aren’t you thrilled?]
Yan Qingqiu replied: [What’s to be thrilled about? Records get broken eventually. Besides, you probably say this to everyone. It’s just a sales tactic.]
She’d seen too many marketing ploys to fall for it.
The system got annoyed: [Don’t twist our words! The system has strict judgment criteria. Rewards only come if you trigger the plot and collect accurate plot points. These rewards are rare!]
So, the “fight” was real, and Song Qingre was the one who snitched? Yan Qingqiu questioned it, testing: What if the system was framing Song Qingre to make her doubt her and turn against her? That would make her the true villainess, and she’d be doomed!
Heh.
Crafty system.
Yan Qingqiu thought: So what if it’s true? It’s in the past. Am I supposed to confront her over something I didn’t experience? That’s absurd.
Besides, as a diehard shipper, what’s a little suffering? Totally normal!
She wasn’t dumb enough to pick a fight with Song Qingre. In any game, sticking with the protagonist gets you fed; opposing them gets you dead.
Was she the type to be easily swayed?
Absolutely not!
Comforting herself, Yan Qingqiu exhaled heavily.
I, Yan Qingqiu, am officially a simp starting today.
The master’s little simp.
The system, unaware of her shift, asked again: [Why aren’t you excited? Gifts! Don’t you want them?]
Yan Qingqiu barely responded.
System: [It’s something you love!]
Yan Qingqiu: [What’s this ‘heart’s desire’ nonsense? I desire lots—beauties, houses, cars, cash. What can you give me?]
The system went silent.
Yan Qingqiu: [Speak! My desires are huge. You’re not bullshitting, are you? That’d piss me off. I’ll complain!]
How could the system know her desires? Could it read her mind? That’d be terrifying.
[You’re not backing out, are you? Say something!]
System: [This was supposed to be fun, but you’ve killed the vibe, so I’m done talking.]
Yan Qingqiu: [Fine, give me ten billion yuan. That’s my biggest desire.]
System: [You still want ten billion? Didn’t you already make a ton for your dad?]
Yan Qingqiu: [Fair point.]
[Then give me a hundred billion. Make my dad the richest man, so our family’s untouchable, and no scumbag can touch me. Please, a hundred billion, thanks, love you, baby.]
Recalling the slave rules, she added: [Scratch that ‘baby.’]
System: [!!!]
It wanted to curse this nutcase, drama-loving diva!
Yan Qingqiu laughed: [Give me that money, and I’ll live happily until 199!]
She wasn’t someone who didn’t love money!
The system huffed, ignoring her.
Realizing the gift wasn’t money, Yan Qingqiu felt a pang of regret. She popped a hawthorn ball in her mouth, the taste numbing after a while.
She nudged the butler. “Butler Dong, have some.”
He’d been waiting for her to explain her mindset behind insulting Song Qingre, but seeing her stuff her face, he warned, “Miss, don’t eat too much.”
Their car had broken down on the road, but the butler had noticed early and managed to pull into a parking spot.
There was a milk tea shop nearby. Yan Qingqiu, hugging her hawthorns, went in. It was crowded with people queuing. The butler told her to put on her mask.
Noticing her sour expression, he thought he’d been too harsh. “The past is the past. Apologize to Miss Song, she might not stay mad. She’s always been good to you.”
Yan Qingqiu didn’t reply, biting into a hawthorn, its tartness making her salivate. She swallowed, her tongue sweeping the sweet-sour remnants.
“Miss?”
Yan Qingqiu said: “I don’t remember a lot of things. Apologizing now feels like too little, too late. Besides, our relationship’s improving. Bringing it up would just reopen old wounds.”
It wasn’t her who did it, she wasn’t apologizing.
Why should she pay for someone else’s mistakes?
She had her own temper. If she admitted fault, it’d mean owning all the harm done to Song Qingre.
The butler, unaware of the full story, saw her reluctance and thought it wasn’t ideal but indulged her.
Yan Qingqiu scanned the menu, picking a matcha drink. “What do you want?”
The butler glanced at it, uninterested.
Yan Qingqiu sighed. “Don’t say coffee, that’s boring. Get milk tea here. Save the classy coffee for formal occasions. Loosen up, enjoy life.”
The butler’s outfit, white shirt, black vest—stood out in the shop. Middle-aged, proper, and handsome, he drew attention.
Seeing him so serious, Yan Qingqiu teased, “Got a crush? Why aren’t you married? Why be a butler? Bet you had tons of admirers when you were young. Ever had a sweetheart?”
He didn’t answer, adjusting his glasses. He had chosen a drink, then slipped short sleeves over her arms. “Miss, are you upset?”
She huffed, tugging at the sleeves.
“You talk a lot when you’re in a bad mood,” he said. “Is it about Miss Song?”
She went silent, propping her chin and playing on her phone. Noticing someone staring, she glanced over, some girls were filming her. Her mask down, she winked at them.
They giggled, covering their mouths, then snapped bolder photos. Yan Qingqiu smirked, leaning back. “You’re lucky, Butler Dong, getting to be on camera with a beauty like me.”
“Truly honored,” he replied.
When her milk tea was ready, the butler fetched it. They each held a cup; he didn’t drink his, standing beside her. “Miss, want to move? It’s getting crowded, so it could draw a crowd.”
She stabbed the straw into her matcha drink, savoring its bittersweet taste and chewy taro paste. It reminded her of trying to make taro paste in her old life—disgustingly bad, but she didn’t waste it, mixing it with flour to make pancakes.
Her phone buzzed—Fu Ye asking when she’d visit, Su Xingjie checking on her. She replied to Su Xingjie, saying she was fine. After sipping half her drink, she stood. “Let’s go. Has the repair shop called?”
“Ten more minutes.”
They moved to a nearby café, quieter, filled with office workers typing.
“Are you going to see him?” the butler asked.
“See him for what?” Yan Qingqiu sneered. “Faking sick to lure me? Dream on.”
The butler nodded. “Like before?”
“Huh?”
“You used to fake being sick to get Fu Ye to visit, but he always saw through it.”
Her lips twitched.
Great, “she” had pulled that too. What goes around comes around. Too bad she had no interest in going, Fu Ye could drop dead for all she cared.
But thinking of “her” cruelty to Song Qingre, it felt just as heartless…
She craved food again, stuffing hawthorns in her mouth until her cheeks bulged. The butler took them away, warning her with a look, if she ate more, he’d tell her dad.
Biting her lip, worried he’d see her meds, she gave up.
The sweet sugar coating couldn’t mask the hawthorn’s tartness, sharp and puckering.
The repair shop called, saying their boss brought tools to fix the car. If it couldn’t be fixed, they’d arrange a ride home.
Yan Qingqiu told the butler, “Bet you Fu Ye’s car passes by soon.”
“Why?” he asked, confused.
She continued, “And it’ll be a melodrama, he chases me, I don’t look back, we race down the street, I’m cold, he’s heartbroken.”
The butler didn’t get it but soon did. The repair crew arrived, led by a red-haired young man.
He eyed Yan Qingqiu, acting cocky, then clicked his tongue. She guessed he was Fu Ye’s friend, decent looks meant he was likely a key side character in novel logic.
He stared, cigarette sparking in his hand, looking like a rich playboy. Yan Qingqiu snapped, “What are you staring at? My hair’s natural, curly and all, not like your wannabe punk style.”
Zhao Jiayu froze mid-drag. “Miss Yan, what’d you say?” He flicked ash, stunned. She used to butter him up to get to Fu Ye, now she was throwing shade?
She repeated, “If you tell Fu Ye I’m here, you’re his lapdog.”
Zhao Jiayu was floored.
“Fix my car already,” she urged, impatient. “You take forever to show up. Hurry up, I need to go. With this service, your shop’s doomed.”
Zhao Jiayu sensed her anger, like she was venting at him. Annoyed, he started to retort, but she ignored him.
He puffed his cigarette, tinkering with the car. It couldn’t be fixed on-site; it needed towing for diagnostics. He had the car taken and arranged a replacement.
Yan Qingqiu got in, not sparing him a word.
Soon after they drove off, a car chased them—Fu Ye’s, just as she predicted.
She lounged in the back, playing a game on the seat’s TV, mashing buttons. The butler glanced in the rearview mirror, her guess was spot-on.
Fu Ye looked deathly pale, reportedly fresh off the operating table for a severe stomach perforation, just to see her.
“Butler Dong, speed up.”
“Got it.” The road cleared, and he floored it, leaving Fu Ye’s car behind.
Yan Qingqiu played a round, not mad at Zhao Jiayu for no reason or stupid enough to pick fights. She was testing if blocking him from telling Fu Ye would stop Fu Ye from showing up.
He showed up anyway.
Some plot points were unavoidable.
The question was, whose CP was the system shipping?
Male lead and female lead? Male lead and side female? Or side female and side female?
The system was weird as hell.
—
Back home, Yan Qingqiu pulled out her notebook and sat at the dining table, scribbling the plot to ease her chest’s sour ache.
She wrote: [Miss Yan said, “You’re a lesbian, huh?”
Miss Song stepped closer, grabbing her hand and pinning her to the wall. “Yeah, I’m a lesbian—so what?” Her gaze was dark, her tone sharp in her ear. “What, not satisfied with a lesbian screwing you?”
With that, Song Qingre slapped her butt, gripping her wrist hard, yanking her pants down…]
It felt thrilling to write, but editing typos, she couldn’t continue. Sweating, she snapped out of it, slapping her cheeks. Bro, what am I writing?
If anyone saw this…
She wrote for an hour, tearing up drafts, rewriting, tossing them. The trash bin filled with crumpled paper balls. Nothing satisfied her, so she left the living room.
“Butler Dong, teach me to drive!”
The butler, on the phone with the repair shop under a streetlamp, was puzzled. “Miss, don’t you already know how to drive? You ordered a car, it should arrive by month’s end.”
“I crashed chasing Fu Ye last time. Scared to drive now,” she lied. “Don’t tell my dad. I haven’t even told Xingxing about it either. I’m trusting you, keep it secret.”
“…Alright.” The butler didn’t question, getting in to ask if she was hurt, how bad, if she’d been checked. She nodded. “Enough about that, it makes me nervous. Teach me.”
She added, “Was the car bought from Zhao Jiayu?”
He nodded.
“Return it, get the money back. Whatever’s cheapest.”
He didn’t overthink, teaching her step-by-step. He drove a lap, then let her take the wheel. She drove slowly, unlike her old style.
She used to be a speed demon, chasing Fu Ye at night.
Her caution wasn’t from total inexperience, she was scared of scratching a luxury car.
As a former poor kid, new things made her instinctively nervous.
At 5 p.m., SendAutumn Studio closed on time.
Soon, car horns blared outside the building.
Looking out, Yan Qingqiu lowered the window, arm on the frame, beckoning Song Qingre. “Get in, I’m taking you home.”
Sheng Huajian glanced down, admiring her shiny blonde hair and bright eyes. This Alpha’s pretty hot, a bit rogue, perfect match for a beauty and a luxury car.
Song Qingre looked up, nodding. “Alright.”
Sheng Huajian couldn’t help asking, “Miss Yan, can you drive?”
“Of course.” Yan Qingqiu turned to Song Qingre, leaning over. “Want me to open the door for you?”
“No need,” Song Qingre said, circling to the passenger side. She looked skeptical. “You really know how to drive?”
“Who are you underestimating?” Yan Qingqiu gripped the wheel, she had a license, after all. “Relax, I drove here myself.”
Song Qingre’s lips moved, about to say something unlucky but stopping. She buckled up. “Go ahead. First time riding with Qiuqiu driving.”
Yan Qingqiu huffed, starting the car and easing onto the road. Soon, Sheng Huajian’s car overtook her from the parking lot, followed by assistant Xiao Fu’s.
Song Qingre glanced out the window, unsure what to use as a reference, the car was crawling. She asked, “Is the car broken again? The butler said it broke down this morning.”
“It’s fine. I’m just… driving slow,” Yan Qingqiu said earnestly. “It’s not that slow. Don’t exaggerate.”
“We’re barely moving.”
She pretended not to hear, speeding up slightly once she got the hang of it. “What’s the rush? Driving’s about stability and safety.”
Song Qingre said, “Not rushing you, but I’m wondering if dinner will be cold by the time we get home.”
“It won’t,” Yan Qingqiu said seriously. “Butler Dong’s in the car behind us.”
Song Qingre turned, smiling. “Oh…”
The car behind followed slowly. The butler nodded slightly, dutifully trailing them.
“No rush, take your time. I want to enjoy the scenery,” Song Qingre said.
“Alright.” Yan Qingqiu thought, You really don’t get it. Slow driving is steady, I’m worried you’ll get hurt if I crash.
She muttered, “I came to pick you up as soon as I learned to drive.”
“Wow, thanks, Qiuqiu.”
“From 3 p.m. to 4:30!”
Song Qingre’s eyes sparkled with amusement, glancing at her occasionally, offering driving tips. “I’m honored.”
Her praise lifted Yan Qingqiu’s mood.
Rush hour hit, and her speed matched the traffic’s average.
“Two more days, and I’ll be a pro,” she boasted.
No response. She glanced over, Song Qingre was leaning against the window, eyes closed. At a red light, she gently pulled her closer, worried a bumpy ride might hurt her.
She drove on, getting steadier.
An hour and a half later, they reached home. Yan Qingqiu exhaled heavily.
A maid opened the door. Yan Qingqiu pressed a finger to her lips, signaling not to wake Song Qingre. She carefully stepped out, but her hand was gripped tightly, bones practically tortured.
Turning, she saw Song Qingre, still asleep, holding her like it was an instinct to keep her from leaving.
The grip burned. “Song Qingre…”
No response. Unable to resist, Yan Qingqiu whispered, “Song Xiao Re…”
“Hm.” Song Qingre answered.
Yan Qingqiu froze, unsure what to do, staring stiffly.
She responded!
Panicking, she looked out the window. Worse, she’d called her that again. Yan Qingqiu, you’re so deep in shipping you’ve lost your mind!
Song Qingre slept soundly, her breath stirring her cheek’s long hair. Yan Qingqiu stared, itching to pinch her face.
Each time she reached out, she pulled back, not daring to touch.
She gazed outside. The butler approached, bowing slightly. She frowned, confused.
He pointed at her cheek, whispering, “Miss, your face is so red—are you feverish? Need a doctor?”
Yan Qingqiu thought, No tact at all. Ignoring him, she wasn’t feverish, she was flustered!
The butler peeked inside, saw their joined hands, nodded in understanding, and walked off.
Yan Qingqiu kept a straight face, glancing around.
The maids were clueless, buzzing like bees, peeking at the car’s scene, then giggling arm-in-arm as they left.
Unbelievable, these people!
She sat and waited, bored, watching the autumn night descend.
It started with a corner of the sky darkening, then a grayish hue spread. The sun sank behind clouds, disappearing below the horizon. The courtyard’s lamps sensed the darkness, lighting up one by one.
When Song Qingre woke, she groaned, stretching her stiff body, realizing she’d slept in the car. She turned to Yan Qingqiu, whose eyes shone like bright bulbs in the night.
Checking her phone, she gasped, “This late? Did we walk home?”
Yan Qingqiu shook her head. “I carried the car on my shoulders and sprinted back.”
Song Qingre laughed, turning to face her, arm on the seat, eyes seemingly asking, Did you wait in the car for me to wake up?
Yan Qingqiu looked away.
Song Qingre squeezed her phone, opening the door. “Thanks for driving me home, Qiuqiu. Work’s been piling up, so I’m exhausted.”
Understandable.
She was in her career’s rising phase, yet paused for two days to hang with her useless “slave.” Hard work, hard work.
Yan Qingqiu got out, pulling the morning’s note from her pocket, crossing out lines. “I’m just following the master’s orders!”
“Then I’ll grade you,” Song Qingre said. “Good job today, 50 points.”
Hearing “50,” Yan Qingqiu glanced at her, thinking she’d seen through her mind.
“Miss, dinner’s ready,” the butler called from the door.
The sky was pitch-black, the air chilly. The living room’s warm lights glowed on the steps. Yan Qingqiu rubbed her arms, feeling long sleeves were due soon.
Yan Fu was home for dinner, seated early. The table held their usual dishes. Hearing she had a cold, he asked, “Taking your meds on time? Before or after meals?”
“After, don’t worry,” she said, sitting. “Oh, Dad, arrange some bodyguards for me later.”
“What’s wrong?” Everyone looked at her.
“Busy stuff. I’ve pissed off too many people lately, I’m worried about getting jumped.”
“Alright,” Yan Fu nodded, watching the two across from him eat in sync, his smile barely contained. Progress, emotional progress.
Plan a holiday next, and there’d be big developments.
Yan Qingqiu finished first, worried about exposing her Alpha status. Upstairs, she secretly opened her med box.
System: [Want to redeem your gift now?]
She wasn’t in a rush. Knowing herself, it wouldn’t be anything proper. If she redeemed it, it’d be late at night when everyone was asleep.
Yan Qingqiu: [Forget gifts. I’m pretty rich now, I can buy my own. Redeem something else.]
System: [What? Tell me.]
Yan Qingqiu: [I remember the early tasks had lots of s3x toys. Show me those, let me see how wild they are, so I can prepare.]
The system paused, seemingly checking, then said: [Sorry, that’s not possible.]
Suppressing the urge to curse, she said sarcastically: [You call that a reward? You don’t get my desires at all. No money, no this, no that, what do you even have?]
System, stung: [You’re not after that kind of thing?]
Yan Qingqiu was shocked. System, watch your mouth!
System: [I meant ‘thirst’, what did you think?]
Busted, she’d been seen through.
Trying to stay rational, she said: [Can’t clear the whole task, fine. At least show me in Song Qingre’s personality section.]
System: [Since you’re the host and we’ll work together a long time if you don’t die, I’ll let you know a secret. Hit 70% plot points in the first stage, and we’ll show you.]
Yan Qingqiu scoffed.
What’s the point?
By then, she’d probably have figured it out herself.
Useless system, no spoilers.
Fuming, she muttered: [Trash.]
The system blasted noise in her head, buzzing. She took a deep breath, swallowed her meds, and rubbed her temples.
Still uncomfortable.
Leaning against the door, she popped a pill, her nose still itchy. She texted Song Qingre: [Master, need me to run your bath? Shall I continue my service tonight? I can head to your room early.]
After sending, she peeked at the slave rules.
Her face flushed.
Downstairs, Song Qingre replied: [No need, you’re sick. Rest early.]
She was still at the table, sketching on a tablet with a stylus, working overtime. After an hour, the butler brought her a fruit plate.
Her gaze fell on the trash bin—nearly empty, save for a few tiny crumpled paper balls. The maid was cleaning.
Song Qingre called her over, put on gloves, and picked up the balls, unfolding them. Reading the contents, she chuckled, pressing her cheek. She grabbed the stylus to edit, then realized it wouldn’t write on paper and that it was a discarded draft.
She kept unfolding until the last one:
[Miss Yan held her wet face, saying, “Sweetie, I didn’t mean you’re a lesbian. I love you so much I can’t stand it.”
Song Qingre turned away, biting her teeth, stepping forward firmly. “Sorry, I don’t like you anymore. Leave. I won’t be that pathetic again.”
Miss Yan chased her, coaxing, “Baby, trust me. Some things I can’t say, but listen…”
She placed Song Qingre’s hand on her chest, her strong heartbeat proving her devotion.
But Song Qingre seemed uninterested in her explanation.
Miss Yan, at a loss, pinned her to the wall. Song Qingre’s fingers gripped her pale neck, squeezing, venting avoidance and hatred.
“Baby, how can I make you believe me?” Miss Yan despaired, tears streaming. “I don’t know why I hurt you… It’s like my heart was controlled. I didn’t mean it, baby. Forgive me—please, I’ll do anything.”
“No need,” Miss Song said, her dark eyes cold.
“Sleep with me. You hurt me for days, give me those days back. I’ll tie you up, day and night, until I’m bored.”]
Song Qingre stared at the words, frowning slightly, her lip curling in a smile that wasn’t quite a smile, more like she was pondering.
The maid called softly, a bit panicked, “Miss Song, need to toss the trash?”
Song Qingre glanced at the paper balls, her expression neutral. “No need.”
Upstairs, Yan Qingqiu soaked in the tub, skipping her hair to avoid worsening her cold. She negotiated with the system.
[You’re not watching me bathe, right?]
System: [I’m just an AI, not as pervy as you.]
Her legs draped over the tub’s edges, she wasn’t exactly proper. Catching the system’s hint, the gift was likely something spicy.
She finished bathing, wrapped in a towel, and locked her room. [You’re not giving me some naughty toy, are you? No thanks, I’ve got money, just too shy to buy. That’d just be endlessly awkward, and it’s not worth much. I’d rather have something else.]
She knew too well: [I’d die of embarrassment. If someone saw me pick it up and it spilled everywhere, they’d say, ‘Oh, Qiuqiu likes this? I’ll help you with it.’] She’d read too many spicy stories, using it herself afterward? Not worth it.
System: [You underestimate our power.]
Yan Qingqiu thought, besides that, what did she crave? She checked her shopping cart for unpurchased items. [What else have you got? The Fierce Alpha Guide or Ten Classic AO Interaction Videos? Those are cheap.]
System: [It’s something you can’t buy, though we can include what you want.]
The chat sparked her curiosity. [Is it legit?]
System: [More than legit, it’s spot-on.]
Yan Qingqiu: […What?]
System: [From your livestreams, you clearly want to tackle your weaknesses, craving it badly. When we saw you desperately want 365 wives, we applied for a bonus! So, I got you double—730 wives! Exciting, right? Each with a unique style!]
Yan Qingqiu was glad she wasn’t in the tub, she’d have choked. She blurted, “Are you insane? 365 wives? Who can handle that? I was joking!”
System: [All beauties, sexy and slim! Fulfills all your fantasies~ Do whatever you want~]
She was dumbfounded. This crazy system, good thing she didn’t redeem it. [You can conjure 365 people? That’s terrifying!]
She wanted to curse!
But, damn, her curiosity was piqued. What would a scene with 365 wives chasing her look like?
Biting her finger, she laughed.
The system was doing this on purpose, knowing she was Song Qingre’s “slave,” tempting her. “Can I see their photos first? System aesthetics differ from human ones. What if you give me 365 robots? Too cold.”
System: [You can reject the gift. No photos, it’s tied to the setup. If you don’t want it, I’ll retract it.]
Tough call. A rare game, and she’d never seen 365 wives chasing her. She was reluctant to let it go.
So annoying.
This game had her pinned.
She did kinda want it.
Gritting her teeth: [Trash game! 365 wives? I’d be a trafficker. This double reward’s worse than a toy!]
The system, after her repeated jabs, got mad, its tone icy: [Watch your mouth. We’re a legit, spicy—romantic game, not a trash game. Don’t insult us.]
Yan Qingqiu pursed her lips as the system deliberately added: [Alright, I’ll switch it to 360×2 s3x toys right now! Please prepare to receive them!]
[…]
[Damn you and your whole family! People will think I’m stocking up! You jerk, hold on!]
Yan Qingqiu shouted in frustration, “Even livestock couldn’t use that many!”
The system, coldly: [Last chance. So, what do you actually want?]
Outside, Song Qingre, about to knock, raised her hand, then lowered it. “Livestock?” Who’s livestock?